An unexpected walk..

I was invited to participate in a friends Tesl class, she introduced me as a friend from Turkey, which made it more interesting, and we spent a very pleasant two hours discussing politics and social conditions. If any of my English classes were as interesting as this, I would also love teaching. Afterwards we parted company and I managed to discover a little bit more of Montreal, the old part..which is now the more "bohemian" sector with plenty of rainbow's floating around...The neighborhood was a bit run down, but with beautiful old buildings, alas I didn't have my camera. Most of the bigger houses were turned into bed and breakfasts. I felt myself quite safe and at home, it was a bit like the backstreets of Taksim. As someone who likes to observe and just soak up the environment it was immensely rewarding. Sitting with my little notebook watching the world go by and the expressions on people's faces. Three old men,one wearing a horrible blonde wig, have trouble comprehending french but assume that it is the girl behind the counters fault for speaking too fast. They are arrogant old men from the south of U.S. She plays well, she slows down her french and lets them suffer, not letting on that she does speak a bit of English. Although the conversation starts to get interesting I decide to leave and keep walking down Berri street towards the bus station. As I get closer to the station it becomes a bit seedier, with more homeless people and young men who seem to be stoned on something. Yet, still I feel safe, why I can't explain. Perhaps because they are so young, perhaps because they seem to eerily belong there. Strangely enough, it's as if some of them choose purposely to be homeless, perhaps like a right of passage, perhaps in protest. I enter into the library which was recently built, a beautiful glass library, it is immense. As I wander inside contemplating whether or not to sit for awhile, a young homeless woman is vocally yelling and being escorted outside by three identical guards. Who are not saying a word but using body language to move her out. She is very vocal and her body language is "in their face". I cannot understand what she says, but I sympathize with her, when I ask someone what happened, they just say she was crazy, perhaps, but I think perhaps she made the other "normal" customers uncomfortable somehow. Yet this is my imagination, perhaps it is my mood I'm feeling sympathetic. I enter the bus station across the street, to ask a question, and there is an old woman at the counter, her back is turned to us. We started as two. She is asking questions (in french) which the attendant patiently answers, yet some of these questions are irrelevant ones, why there aren't more stops on the bus etc. This goes on for about ten minutes, the line behind me gets longer, and still no one makes a fuss, fidgets or bothers to say anything. This courtesy would not be possible in New York!! I understand waiting and being polite, yet if IF it was getting anywhere! Finally I ask if there is another information desk, the man looks at me funny! The old woman turns around and acts hugely surprised that there are people behind her! My french becomes very fluent when I get fed up..Sometimes it pays to be pushy! The weather is too beautiful, warm and sunny to be underground, so I continue my march up Berri till I tire and go into the metro. I pass high rise buildings,small town houses, neighborhoods which are better kept some which are less so. I come across a primary school which is named after Lafontaine. I wonder what the writer would think of his newest proteges. It is interesting watching children at play. Aged around 9-10 some are playing basketball, one little girl is sitting on what is left of the snow, dirtied, fishing inside a little puddle, my curiosity gets the better of me and as I watch, she is pulling out pieces of asphalt and piling them on top of her little mound of snow. A group of girls is punching a punching bag (first time I've seen that) and very well at that, and lastly two boys are just watching the groups with that empty look that can be associated with young kids. I pass a huge church, surprisingly St.Vincent de Paul, brings back memories of Switzerland, it has been turned into a refuge for young people, hopefully it works.
I come upon a quaint corner, on a small street Duluth. It has, for lack of a better term, a hippy atmosphere, it is a small street with a pub, a few quaint restaurants and a store which sells birkenstocks. I have no idea why but I liked it. Asking directions from a young man with a goatee sweeping the front of the store, I find I am near Mont Royal, and decide that this would be a good place to stop and take a metro. I've walked for around 2 hours and as distances are deceiving here, I still have around five more metro stops..having done about three, I reluctantly end my walk having enjoyed it immensely.